Juiced
by Catri Howlman-Carthaki spy
Summary: No pairing, Sokka centric: He’d never thought he’d crave fire in a dessert, but that’s what he seemed to be doing.


_Juiced_

_by Catty-the-spy_

He'd never thought he'd crave fire in a dessert, but that's what he seemed to be doing. It took him getting high on cactus juice to crave it, to see it everywhere and mourn the fact that he couldn't feel its heat.

As a young child he'd had a fascination with fire. He'd stare at fires for hours, enraptured; content to do nothing more, protesting whenever someone pulled him away. He had loved the fire, sitting unnaturally close, smiling with delight at the fires that refused to go out unless they were put out. He had made it to six years old before his father caught him sticking his cold feet into the fire. From that day on he'd been brainwashed almost, forced to learn to hate the fire, that the fires were only tools, used because they must be, not to be enjoyed.

The fires were no longer immortal.

He loved the flames still, even if he'd normally never acknowledge it. He'd buried that love deep inside where even he couldn't find it. The cost had been great, as his elders had learned and refused to admit. The fire was tied to much of his common sense, his rationality, his strength. Before he'd been pulled away from the fire he'd been quiet and reserved, thinking before speaking, able to wander around in the cold with only a light covering, not the thick heavy coats of his people. When he lost the fire, he'd lost nearly everything, even his mind for a short time.

Now though, the cactus juice had revealed to him what he missed so much, what he'd lost, what he could have again if he'd only take it back.

The flames danced around him like they used to, telling him secrets and myths, things long forgotten. The fire told him of the metal-benders, long departed over the edge of the world, of the time when there were half-avatars, those gifted with more than one ability, though not all of the greatest four. The fire told him things that no one had known in sixty thousand years, and he'd soaked it up like a sponge. The fire reminded him of what they used to have, of what they could have again, if only he could accept it.

His head was filled with hate for fire-benders and the fire nation. Fire was taboo, the information told him. Fire was destruction and chaos. Nothing good came of fire.

His thoughts warred with him. He could remember now. Fire was creation. Fire was warmth and purification. The fire was his friend, his memories told him. The fire was what it had always been, and could not go against its nature. Fire could only do so much damage alone; a human had to help it to do more than the balance gave permission.

His insides warred.

The sun rose and his sister came to him. "Sokka? Come on, it's time to move."

'Sokka, my child' said the fire softly, reaching out to tickle him.

He smiled, reaching back, and for a moment, he swore he touched the phantom fire.

'My child, my dear-heart.'

"Let's go Sokka. Come on, get up." His sister pulled him to his feet. Around him the others stumbled around, mumbling and thirsty, dreading the walk to come.

The cactus juice prevented him from feeling too tired, making him too high to care too greatly about the thirst and the sand. The fire caressed him and he was happy, he filled his heart with it as much as it would let him, and stumbled contentedly after his sister, too happy with his favourite tale to babble on about the strange things that fled from the fire's presence in his mind.

The fire was with him, and he was content.

* * *

A young man stood on hot cliffs overlooking the sea. Miles separated him from his destination. Behind him fires blazed, cooking food for him and his companions.

He stood brave, hair slightly longer, back slightly straighter. He was a little bit taller, a little bit thinner, a little bit grimmer about life in general. His clothes were just a little too small, but he was okay with that. He stood over looking the ocean, hearing the fire at his back whisper to him, whisper secrets that he couldn't - _yet_ - clearly hear. The fire's words were indistinguishable, but he heard the voice.

The fires burned in his eyes.

The fire roared behind him, sending his companions flying back in surprise.

Standing where they couldn't see his face, he smiled.

* * *

_A/N: This is my First Avavtar fic, inspired while watching Sokka prance around in the dessert after drinking cactus juice. Constructive critisism is welcomed, because Mirror - as always - is my proofreader. Tell me what I (and/or he) did wrong, how I can make it better, etc. _

_The 'over the edge of the world' bit was brought about by my watching the show and contemplating their perfectly rectangular map of the world._

_Any questions and I'll be glad to explain._

_Love and Kisses,_

_Catty-the-spy_

_P.S.: Flames will be used to heat my bathwater._


End file.
